


From the beginning then

by LynneyGinnyJoan



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, a kissing book, apparently, morgenstern and mofftisson, the princess bride!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 09:31:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5158781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynneyGinnyJoan/pseuds/LynneyGinnyJoan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here’s how it should have gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the beginning then

Here’s how it should have gone.

After the first meeting, the first date, the first shot fired to save a new friend, there was the second meeting. Standing on the pavement in front of the Roland-Kerr Further Education College, this meeting was more genuine than the first, less a deduction to impress and a wink to seal interest and more a true observation, truly seeing who the other one is and who they are to each other, instantly and forever. Detective and Doctor, madman and soldier, Sherlock and John, always.

It should have been followed with Chinese food, with giggling, with a decisive walk back to Baker Street and an even more decisive hand on a chest, with a short body pressing a taller one against the front door of 221B. It should have been followed with kisses and caresses and “we’ll only be needing one bedroom, Mrs. Hudson.”

After three deaths linked by numbers in a code and a brilliant face-off with a villain yet again, it should have been a quiet relief while settling into chairs, a soft realization that if dating is where two people who like each other go out and have fun, then this has been something more than friends or colleagues from the start. Breakfast and newspapers and professional regrets the next morning should have followed a night of hands reaching out to touch, hands grabbing onto hair and hips, hands clutching at bed sheets.

After a specialist answered a phone, after a decision was made with a look and a nod, it should have been two men on fire. It should have been a joyous affirmation of a life and a future together, ignited by adrenaline and fear and relief, fueled by desire, eclipsed by need. It should have been a spark that caught in the living room at Baker Street. After a game had been played for far too long, it should have been a small, tense moment standing at home and looking at the other and seeing everything. And then it should have been an explosion. It should have been the sun setting the ocean on fire and these two men realizing the fear of losing each other was far more terrifying than fear of death. It should have been a spark, and then a flame, and then a soft, ashy fall into oblivion together.

It should never have involved a Woman.

It should have been the detective and his blogger and that’s it, no erotic sigh announcing fifty seven texts, no death on a slab (and certainly no returning from it), no sad music or glances filled with fear, confusion, or pain. But if The Woman had to be, then after her there should have been a question, asked by an army doctor who rediscovered his bravery beside a microscope with a file clutched in his arms. There should have been an answer, given by a consulting detective who finally realized a good marriage is one between two equal partners, and surely he is worth so much more than The Work. It should have been two men absolutely starving, and deciding to finally get dinner.

It should have been Dartmoor and dogs and drugs, because that should never change, but it also should have been confessions. Questions. Discussions. It should have been understanding and pleased realizations and a slow, tentative walk up the stairs to a not-double-room, and a night spent wrapped in each other on a bed just slightly too small.

 

It should have gone very, very differently on a roof, and on the pavement below it.

 

It should have been kisses instead of punches. It should have been two men reunited, instead of three strangers at a table.

There always should have been a wedding of course, but it shouldn’t have followed a night of hands on knees and the cover of alcohol to retreat behind. It should have been a sentimental dinner at Angelo’s, and love made in a bedroom at Baker Street between two people who would spend the next day standing in front of all those who love them, and putting into words what everyone has always known about these two: that they were inevitable.

It should have been chases and escapes and fencing and fighting and bad men and good men and miracles and truth and true love and high adventure and these two together through it all.

I guess in some ways it was. It just should have been, could have been, much more.  
But it’s ok. We can wait for how it should go. It is a kissing book after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second thing I have ever "published" in any form.
> 
> It's not as good as the first.


End file.
